Today
In (to paraphrase "The Weakest Link") a reversal of fortune, we went to Sussex to bring all Paul's stuff back.
Paul hired a transit van and we set off for Sussex. It was empty, of course, and reverberated a bit in anticipation of having a full load.
Unable to sleep, we'd set of at a ridiculously early hour. Utterly ridiculous, because we still hit 8.30 rush hour traffic at Worthing and 9.00 rush hour traffic at Brighton. Still, we stopped off at Flat 2 and admired the work that had been done on the ceiling.
Then off to collect the stuff. It had been fairly neatly arranged and, after all, Paul hadn't unpacked very much, All loaded in 1/2 an hour (all those sessions at the gym do have some effect, you know) and we were on our way back home in 40 minutes.
In My Day
It was so exciting when we moved from the flat in Belmont to our first house in Eastbourne. Even the fact that the mortgage repayment was 3 times the rent (that was in the days of 16% interest rates) couldn't damp our enthusiasm.
We were told that the house would be ready in March and started to get organised. We were so poor that we had hardly anything. The carpet wouldn't fit as the new house was open-plan, nor would the curtains. Paul decided to hire a Bedford van and we asked a friend to help. On the great day, Paul couldn't get away from work till the evening, so I started packing on my own. (Where was Lizzy? Perhaps at the childminders'...)
It's surprising how many boxes you can fill, even when you've very little furniture. I flogged up and down the stairs, taking stuff down in readiness. It didn't help that my period started that day - I had to lie down at one point.
Eventually Paul and friend turned up; were delighted at how much I'd managed to do solo and got the van loaded. We collected Lizzy and drove, in pouring rain, to Eastbourne.
The layout of the property was with the back garden, surrounded by a high wall, facing the road. There was a high wooden gate into the garden. As it was a new house there was no lawn and the garden was a sea of mud. We slipped and staggered into the house (good thing there were no carpets); the pieces of planking we'd laid over the mud being more of a hindrance than a help.
Paul & friend drove back to get another load. I tried to keep Lizzy, aged 2, entertained and to sort a few things out. There were a couple of cards and gifts at the house. Mamma, bless her, had sent a box which had tea and loo roll - the sort of things that tend to buried in a box labelled "Christmas Decorations".
The following day we went back to lift the carpet which we giving to Mum (it turned out to be full of pins as a result of all my sewing and fitted nothing at their flat).
Ever since using removal firms has seemed like a good idea.
My arms ache from lifting.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Today
Having a go at snowing today. The temperature doesn't seem low enough and there's been no long cold spell. However, on my way home tonight, it got worse and worse - visibility shocking and, once I got to Holcombe, some snow was lying. Don't think it will last.
The Met office warned us that, because of the antics of the North Atlantic Oscillator, we would be having a shocking winter. Doesn't seem to be true - a few chilly days and a poor attempt at does not a bad winter make.
In My Day
I remember the great cold winter of 1962/3. The first part was a prolonged period of freezing smog. This was before the clean air act, so London was still full of coal fires churning out sooty smoke which mixed with the fog to produce air which killed babies and old people.
I was doing a paper round at the time. I used to cycle from Upper Norwood to the paper shop in Thornton Heath. Each day I saw the frosty particles grow like stalactites on the garden walls. Sometimes I was too scared to actually ride my bike, it was so icy.
On boxing day 1962 it started to snow and snow and snow. I now really couldn't ride my bike. So I had to get up even earlier and walk, pushing the bike (it was very helpful in actually carrying the papers) down to Thornton Heath at about 5.30 in the morning.
On December 30th (a Sunday) it really began to blizzard. I got to the shop at some godawful time and picked up my bag. Even in 1962 Sunday papers were full of supplements so were always heavy. What was worse was having to scrape away snow from letter boxes and thrust the papers in, section by section. Why did so many people have these doors with letter boxes at ground level? It took ages and some papers got damaged (a fact that some customers actually complained about).
Eventually, two and a half hours later, I staggered back to the shop, frozen. "Don't stay, luv, you're dripping on the mat", says my sympathetic boss. I left and trudged back up the hill, longing for a cup of hot tea and my bed.
No such luck; when I got home I found that the snow had brought a tree down over the road, blocking the traffic (see blog 22/5/2005) and I simply had to help with carting away the logs.
It'll take more than a flurry of poor wet snow to stop me doing what I want.
Having a go at snowing today. The temperature doesn't seem low enough and there's been no long cold spell. However, on my way home tonight, it got worse and worse - visibility shocking and, once I got to Holcombe, some snow was lying. Don't think it will last.
The Met office warned us that, because of the antics of the North Atlantic Oscillator, we would be having a shocking winter. Doesn't seem to be true - a few chilly days and a poor attempt at does not a bad winter make.
In My Day
I remember the great cold winter of 1962/3. The first part was a prolonged period of freezing smog. This was before the clean air act, so London was still full of coal fires churning out sooty smoke which mixed with the fog to produce air which killed babies and old people.
I was doing a paper round at the time. I used to cycle from Upper Norwood to the paper shop in Thornton Heath. Each day I saw the frosty particles grow like stalactites on the garden walls. Sometimes I was too scared to actually ride my bike, it was so icy.
On boxing day 1962 it started to snow and snow and snow. I now really couldn't ride my bike. So I had to get up even earlier and walk, pushing the bike (it was very helpful in actually carrying the papers) down to Thornton Heath at about 5.30 in the morning.
On December 30th (a Sunday) it really began to blizzard. I got to the shop at some godawful time and picked up my bag. Even in 1962 Sunday papers were full of supplements so were always heavy. What was worse was having to scrape away snow from letter boxes and thrust the papers in, section by section. Why did so many people have these doors with letter boxes at ground level? It took ages and some papers got damaged (a fact that some customers actually complained about).
Eventually, two and a half hours later, I staggered back to the shop, frozen. "Don't stay, luv, you're dripping on the mat", says my sympathetic boss. I left and trudged back up the hill, longing for a cup of hot tea and my bed.
No such luck; when I got home I found that the snow had brought a tree down over the road, blocking the traffic (see blog 22/5/2005) and I simply had to help with carting away the logs.
It'll take more than a flurry of poor wet snow to stop me doing what I want.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Today
I've made the decision: it's going to be a Lexus Cabriolet. My company car goes back at the end of March. I want a car that gives me a sense of comfort and security while turning a couple of heads.
I test drove the Lexus a couple of weeks ago. There are really only 2 seats and Becky complained that I wouldn't be able to take her & Lizzy places. Tough - we'll go in her boring grey Toyota instead (once she's got the dents sorted).
It's blue with a cream leather interior. Everyone tells me that I'll get fantastic service from Lexus and that, anyway, it'll never go wrong.
In My Day
A new car was a concept utterly foreign to me until I began to have company cars.
When I met Paul, back in 1971, he had an ancient Sunbeam Rapier. One of those whose air conditioning consisted of rust holes in the floor. That died one night after we'd been out on a date, so he trotted off to a place on a very nasty Eastbourne council estate and bought an Austin Westminster for £25 from a man called Mr Fox (should have been our warning, really).
Paul was undergoing his police training at that time and was mortified to be stopped by the police. Turned out that the car had a forged tax disc and dodgy MOT. Paul stormed over to Foxy's, showed his warrant card and demanded his money back. Which he got and put down as a part payment on the Vauxhall Victor Estate that featured in an earlier blog.
I'm going to place my order in a couple of weeks - just love that new car smell.
I've made the decision: it's going to be a Lexus Cabriolet. My company car goes back at the end of March. I want a car that gives me a sense of comfort and security while turning a couple of heads.
I test drove the Lexus a couple of weeks ago. There are really only 2 seats and Becky complained that I wouldn't be able to take her & Lizzy places. Tough - we'll go in her boring grey Toyota instead (once she's got the dents sorted).
It's blue with a cream leather interior. Everyone tells me that I'll get fantastic service from Lexus and that, anyway, it'll never go wrong.
In My Day
A new car was a concept utterly foreign to me until I began to have company cars.
When I met Paul, back in 1971, he had an ancient Sunbeam Rapier. One of those whose air conditioning consisted of rust holes in the floor. That died one night after we'd been out on a date, so he trotted off to a place on a very nasty Eastbourne council estate and bought an Austin Westminster for £25 from a man called Mr Fox (should have been our warning, really).
Paul was undergoing his police training at that time and was mortified to be stopped by the police. Turned out that the car had a forged tax disc and dodgy MOT. Paul stormed over to Foxy's, showed his warrant card and demanded his money back. Which he got and put down as a part payment on the Vauxhall Victor Estate that featured in an earlier blog.
I'm going to place my order in a couple of weeks - just love that new car smell.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Today
This week I announced my retirement from the company where I've worked for the past 19 years and of which I've been MD for 5.
Reactions were mixed - some didn't seem to notice, some congratulated me, some were cross, some in tears.
Given how my life has changed recently, this is just one more to roll with.
I've lots of plans, which include a visit to Machu Picchu in September, among other things. Odd to be doing much of it alone - but I'll sure I'll find lots of friends.
In My Day
My father was terrified of retirement. He used to read the obituaries involving other journalists. "Drank too much, of course, but it was retirement that actually killed him", he'd say. He was convinced that you had about 18 months after retirement.
When his own retirement from Hansard, at 65, approached, he begged, and was given, a stay of execution for 1 year. Once he'd retired, he took jobs travelling Europe reporting at the United Nations, NATO etc (this was before the use of tape recorders, when a crack journalist with top-notch shorhand skills was at a premium). He went to Paris, Strasbourg, Geneva. When that dried up he worked for the Press Association, still in the Houses of Parliament, on a freelance basis. He also did some shorthand teaching at Pitman's College in Holborn.
He didn't give up until he had a stroke that impaired his hearing, at the age of 74. And he lived to be 86.
I've no intention of going before my time. There's plenty to do and I'm going to do it. Flying lessons, anybody?
This week I announced my retirement from the company where I've worked for the past 19 years and of which I've been MD for 5.
Reactions were mixed - some didn't seem to notice, some congratulated me, some were cross, some in tears.
Given how my life has changed recently, this is just one more to roll with.
I've lots of plans, which include a visit to Machu Picchu in September, among other things. Odd to be doing much of it alone - but I'll sure I'll find lots of friends.
In My Day
My father was terrified of retirement. He used to read the obituaries involving other journalists. "Drank too much, of course, but it was retirement that actually killed him", he'd say. He was convinced that you had about 18 months after retirement.
When his own retirement from Hansard, at 65, approached, he begged, and was given, a stay of execution for 1 year. Once he'd retired, he took jobs travelling Europe reporting at the United Nations, NATO etc (this was before the use of tape recorders, when a crack journalist with top-notch shorhand skills was at a premium). He went to Paris, Strasbourg, Geneva. When that dried up he worked for the Press Association, still in the Houses of Parliament, on a freelance basis. He also did some shorthand teaching at Pitman's College in Holborn.
He didn't give up until he had a stroke that impaired his hearing, at the age of 74. And he lived to be 86.
I've no intention of going before my time. There's plenty to do and I'm going to do it. Flying lessons, anybody?
Monday, February 06, 2006
Today
This has been an odd week which has seen the end of my 35 year-old marriage. Having done the deed, I had to phone to tell friends and family. Without exception they were loving and supportive. I realised that I have many friends - it was easy to tell those who were handing out routine sympathy and those who really wanted me to know that they regarded me with love.
I found out that I haven't been the extra in what they saw as a friendship with Paul - it's true that you can't see yourself as others see you. I shan't test their patience - I feel confident in my decision, but it's so nice to know that they're there.
In My Day
At school I generally felt friendless, On my 1st day I sat next to a child who pinched and kicked me all day long. It became clear that my family were rather unusual, so that the views and ideas I assumed were normal were seen by many as odd. So my certainties were rocked. Plus I had to wear glasses - pink wire framed NHS glasses. I remember sitting on the playground wall, feeling very self-conscious and isolated. I broke or lost those specs as soon as I could.
Looking back, I realise that I did have some friends - there was a boy called Phillip and a girl called Christine. And another nice chap who welshed on his friends who were planning to pull some stunt on me involving bubble gum and mud.
Friendship is a gift, not a right. And I'm not about to throw it away.
This has been an odd week which has seen the end of my 35 year-old marriage. Having done the deed, I had to phone to tell friends and family. Without exception they were loving and supportive. I realised that I have many friends - it was easy to tell those who were handing out routine sympathy and those who really wanted me to know that they regarded me with love.
I found out that I haven't been the extra in what they saw as a friendship with Paul - it's true that you can't see yourself as others see you. I shan't test their patience - I feel confident in my decision, but it's so nice to know that they're there.
In My Day
At school I generally felt friendless, On my 1st day I sat next to a child who pinched and kicked me all day long. It became clear that my family were rather unusual, so that the views and ideas I assumed were normal were seen by many as odd. So my certainties were rocked. Plus I had to wear glasses - pink wire framed NHS glasses. I remember sitting on the playground wall, feeling very self-conscious and isolated. I broke or lost those specs as soon as I could.
Looking back, I realise that I did have some friends - there was a boy called Phillip and a girl called Christine. And another nice chap who welshed on his friends who were planning to pull some stunt on me involving bubble gum and mud.
Friendship is a gift, not a right. And I'm not about to throw it away.
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